


this is the worthwhile fight

by surrenderer



Series: play it good and right [2]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Rock Band, F/M, Jon Snow is Not a Stark
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-30
Updated: 2019-07-30
Packaged: 2020-07-26 01:34:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,568
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20035675
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/surrenderer/pseuds/surrenderer
Summary: “Next time you’re on the road for a long time, I’m going to take some time off. Come hang out with you and everyone else. Stand backstage and scream your name like the groupie I should be.”





	this is the worthwhile fight

**Author's Note:**

> 10 points to whoever can spot the jonas brothers reference!
> 
> please note that this takes place BEFORE "these are the hands of fate" but i suppose you could read them as stand-alones? this might make more sense if you read that one first, though.
> 
> title from "state of grace" by taylor swift.

It’s easier for Jon to find a private corner to take a call than it is for Sansa, so when his phone starts ringing, he immediately gets up from the poker game, even as Tormund threatens to peek at his hand if he’s not back in five minutes.  
  
“Hey,” he says when he’s ducked into the dorm area and headed to his little room. He sits down on the bed and smiles when Sansa doesn’t answer for a second because she’s… yelling at someone? It sounds like Arya is the target of her ire, and Jon closes his eyes for a second and lets the familiar sounds wash over him. Sansa and Arya have always fought and argued, but they’ve also always forgiven each other and there’s nothing one sister wouldn’t do for the other.  
  
“Hey,” Sansa says finally, when everything’s gone quiet for a second. Jon can hear the smile in her tone. “Sorry about that, _someone_ was trying to get me to join in on the video game tournament in the bus, nevermind that I kept saying I had to make a phone call.”  
  
Jon laughs. “Yeah, because making a private phone call at… what, it’s probably one in the morning where you are? That’s not suspicious at all. You should make sure Arya isn’t listening on the other side of the door.”  
  
“I wouldn’t put it past her,” Sansa mutters darkly. “She already thinks something’s up, and you _know_ how she gets when she thinks that I’m hiding something.”  
  
Jon knows how Arya gets when she thinks _anyone_ is hiding something from her, not just Sansa. She would never betray a secret, but she just likes to know them.  
  
The problem is, though, that he wouldn’t mind Arya knowing about him and Sansa. They’d agreed, before she left, that whatever was happening between them was so new and fragile that it made no sense to tell their family and friends yet, especially not when Sansa’s on tour for two months. But between tentative phone calls late at night when Sansa’s on the tour bus and Jon’s awake at the station, and their emails and texts back and forth, Jon thinks that maybe it’s not as fragile as they thought.  
  
“How was the show?” he asks gently. “You guys sounded great even on Margaery’s cell phone video.” The videos are more for Robb’s benefit, but Jon’s in on the group chat too (“Starks and Friends,” Margaery’s named it). She sends a new one every night they’re on tour, even if it’s just a minute of backstage shenanigans or thirty seconds of distorted sound and flashing lights.  
  
“It was fine,” Sansa replies, and Jon’s never wished more fervently for a better phone so her voice isn’t as tinny coming through the speaker. “I mean… it’s another show. I love touring, don’t get me wrong, but sometimes I just miss home. Even the Riverlands would be fine, but when we’re so far away from the North, it just feels like I’m a fish out of water all over again.”  
  
“Or a wolf away from her pack.” Jon’s glad he picked the low-hanging fruit for that joke, because Sansa’s laughter makes it worth it.  
  
“Oh, shush, you. Like we don’t hear ten million wolf pack jokes a day already. I’m going to gouge out the eyes of the next person who cracks one.”  
  
“Even if it’s Tyrion?”  
  
“_Especially_ if it’s Tyrion. He doesn’t get a pass just because Jaime is his brother.”  
  
Fair enough, Jon supposes. Tyrion has a penchant for making jokes, and the most obvious ones at that, even if he’s the only one who finds them funny. But that also makes him The Pack’s best choice of touring press manager, because he somehow corrals the whole pack of jackals into a manageable herd through sheer wit alone.  
  
Or he’s just got blackmail on the whole lot of them. Jon wouldn’t put it past him.  
  
“Well, you’ll be home in five weeks,” he says softly when there’s a lull in the conversation. “I know it’s a long time, but there’s a light at the end of the tunnel.”  
  
“I know,” Sansa sighs. “I just… the middle’s always hard, you know? The initial thrill’s worn off, the final burst of adrenaline isn’t there yet… and now we’re heading towards King’s Landing. You know how much I hate King’s Landing.”  
  
Yeah, Jon knows. All the Starks know, but if Sansa doesn’t ever return there, the band is dead on arrival, with only a cult fanbase and hipster appeal. And they’re bigger and better than that, honestly. Jon wants to see them on every late-night show across Westeros, and he wants them at the top of the charts for weeks and weeks until they’re a household name.  
  
At the same time, Jon is glad that Sansa isn’t there alone. She’s got Arya and Theon and their band and Margaery, who grows thorns just as quickly as any wolf that snaps their teeth. He just wishes he could be there too.  
  
“I do. I also know that you’re going to be great on stage, and they won’t be able to deny your talent when it’s right in front of their faces.”  
  
“I hope you’re right,” Sansa finally relents. She sighs again and Jon holds his breath. “I miss you.”  
  
Jon lets out his breath, his heart aching slightly at the sadness in Sansa’s voice. “I miss you too.” At this point, they’ve been apart longer than they’ve been officially together, and it _sucks_. “Soon, okay? You’re going to show everyone down south what the North is made of, and then you’re going to come home to that sell-out crowd at the amphitheater, and then you’re gonna come home to your bed and your dog, and me, if you want.”  
  
_If you want._ Jon’s spent the last three weeks holding his breath, just waiting for Sansa to tell him that it’s too hard, it’s too much to be in one of Westeros’ up-and-coming rock bands and tour all the time _and_ have a boyfriend at home. A boyfriend who works a job that absolutely requires him to be local and present, and also intentionally run into danger every day.  
  
He can practically hear Sansa rolling her eyes across the crackly phone line. “Of course I want you there, you fool. It’s not like… gods, it’s not like I forgot about you as soon as I got on the bus, you know? I would do… I dunno, I’d do a lot of things right now if it meant getting to be with you for just an hour.”  
  
Jon smiles to himself, even if there’s a lump in his throat now. Gods, but he misses her. She’s been on the periphery of his life for almost as long as he could remember, as Robb’s sister and his friend, and now, more than that too. How did it take so long for them to get here? “Me too,” he says hoarsely. “Next time you’re on the road for a long time, I’m going to take some time off. Come hang out with you and everyone else. Stand backstage and scream your name like the groupie I should be.”  
  
He absolutely would, even if Sansa laughs at him. “I want a sign, Snow. With my name in glitter and everything.”  
  
It’s a nice dream, even if Jon hopes that The Pack’s next tour isn’t too soon after this current one. He wants to be able to surprise Sansa with flowers at her apartment, and take her out on real dates where they dress up, and he wants to be able to kiss her awake and come home to her after a long shift.  
  
They talk a little longer before Sansa starts yawning and Jon does too. It’s very late at night, Sansa’s just played a show, and Jon should try to get a few hours of sleep because he never knows when there’s an emergency in the middle of the night. “Five more weeks,” he reminds her before they hang up, and she makes a muted _muah!_ into the phone that makes him laugh.  
  
The poker game is over by the time Jon goes back out to the day room; Edd must have gone to sleep at some point and Tormund is filling up his water bottle from the cooler. Jon almost misses his “so, who’s the lucky lady?” because his head is still full of Sansa’s voice.  
  
“No one,” he immediately says, because he and Sansa aren’t telling anyone yet, and even if anyone really meant her family and their friends, Tormund is still someone that would stand a high chance of meeting any of the aforementioned family and friends. And Tormund also can’t keep a secret to save his life.  
  
The man in question rolls his eyes. “And I’m a thirteen-year old girl, Jon Snow. You just spent an hour on the phone, holed up in your room in the middle of the night, and you’ve been waiting for that call all day. She out of town or something?”  
  
So maybe Jon isn’t as subtle as he thinks he is. “Something like that,” he murmurs, glancing at his phone again when it beeps with a text.  
  
_Five weeks until I can kiss you for real_, Sansa writes, and Jon runs his thumb briefly over the screen.  
  
He can’t wait for her to come home.

**Author's Note:**

> so i posted this during the Bachelorette finale so any and all mistakes are mine and mine alone.


End file.
